Breaking the Rules
by TheGodmother2
Summary: Breaking the rules. That's what it all came down to and it's sad and it's pathetic but it's the truth. Season 4 reflections of Walt and Vic.
1. Chapter 1

**Breaking the Rules**

I'm breaking the rules but I received a ton of PM's (thank you) about folks concerned about season 4 and Walt/Vic shipping.

Rest assured that I feel 100% confident in where they are headed and think season 4 was the best season, ever, as in ever in the history of television. Bold statement, yes, but as a collective body it would be very difficult to beat.

I think we are in a very good place for Walt and Vic it's just painful but what characters worth their salt don't bring pain? I'm still processing the season, it was very emotional and complex, and when I get sorted I promise I will write a new fic.

Stay strong and stay loyal to the best damned show out there.

 **There is a fic now behind this title in the subsequent chapters. I invite you to read them.**

GM


	2. Post-It's

**A/N - Just like all of you I am trying to get my head around season 4 and the very unexpected turn of events. This fic is how I reasoned the events and it's not necessarily what the writers were trying to depict which plainly put means I'm trying to recover from the head punch I just took from Iron Mike Tyson. I am reintroducing my character Dr. Chandler from the Here and Now fic. Thank you for taking this journey with me and for your reviews because I think we all need a little therapy after what we went through together.**

 **There are numerous SPOILERS so if you haven't watched and don't want to be SPOILED. Stop here. You were WARNED. (Was that tough enough? Lol)**

 **I would be remiss if I didn't thank RebelxxWalt and Vickrok for talking me down from the ledge. Thank you. You are both so inspirational and rational!**

* * *

Breaking the rules. That's what it all came down to and it's sad and it's pathetic but it's the truth.

Vic withdrew deeper into herself and kept quiet which should have been the first clue that something was desperately wrong but you know you looked away just like he did because the reminders were too painful to acknowledge as she feel apart pore by pore. As we look back on it now, we know we can't blame him for abandoning her because the truth is that he had to in order to save himself and in the end isn't self-preservation the first Darwinian law? If it's not, it should be.

By the time the ethics board and the FBI wrapped up their parallel investigations both of them were on their separate emotional islands and surviving, just barely, but without each other.

"That's the last box." She says as she smacks her palms together and wipes them on the butt of her jeans her face expressionless but intense.

"Ok." Is all he says to her and that's his answer for pretty much everything the past four months.

"Walt, do you need anything else?" Ferg asks.

He doesn't bother to answer Ferg and just shakes his head as he walks back into his office and closes the door behind him. Ferg glances at Ruby and points toward the closed wooden door with his eyebrows.

Ruby sits at her desk, her lips collapse and shrink at Ferg's response as she becomes a part of the office landscape. Regretful for encouraging him but wise enough to know none of it could have been prevented, none of it, she waits a few minutes and draws in a deep breath and steps inside of the large nearly empty office without knocking.

"Walter, I need to talk to you." She sits down without being invited and he doesn't put up a fight. He doesn't do that anymore.

He turns to face her and waits for the lecture that isn't to come.

She passes the iconic yellow post-it note back and forth between her small arthritic fingers and sighs as she leans forward and places it in the middle of his desk.

"I want you to call that number and make an appointment." The maternal drive in her voice is full throttle.

He doesn't bother to pick up the post-it, he reads the name and looks back at Ruby, but he remains silent. She doesn't detect the anticipated anger or resolve just an overwhelming sadness.

"Walter, you still have a job to do."

"I'm doing it."

"You need help."

"I have help."

"Not that kind."

"The FBI cleared us, Ruby. Part of that required that I see the Crisis Intervention Team. I did that. I'm fine."

"No, Walter. You're not fine."

He looks at her too tired to argue.

"I know that this isn't easy but then again", she sighs, "you never did anything easy. Now, you've got to talk to somebody."

"I tried that already." The words cut like a knife and they hurt and they bleed.

She holds her head down and intertwines her crooked fingers.

He hears the slight gasp of air like she absorbed the body blow he just gave her.

"I'm sorry, Ruby." His voice is regretful.

She sits in silence for just a moment and looks up at him, her blue eyes full of tears that won't surrender and fall, "I need to give you my two weeks' notice."

"What?" He says as he leans forward.

"I can't work for someone I don't respect."

The words sting like a wet slap across his face.

"If that's how you feel, Ruby."

"That's how I feel." She says and she eases up onto her feet from the chair.

She reaches the door and turns to him and to her surprise his eyes are still upon her, "I never thought I would ever be ashamed of you but right now I am."

"You don't think you're being dramatic?"

"Not nearly as dramatic as you've been the past four months."

"Ruby." He stands and leans his fists on his desk. "I'm embarrassed."

"I know you are, Walter, but you didn't know. None of us knew."

"How could I be so wrong about two people?" He asks like there are no available clues.

"I don't know but the answers are there inside now you just need some help figuring it out."

He looks down at his fingers splayed across his desk and the yellow note staring back at him.

"Robert, huh."

"Yes, it's a man but I didn't plan it that way."

They don't say anything because neither of them can allow that kind of pain to pass between them.

She steps outside, closes the door behind her, and walks over towards the occupied desks.

"Vic, honey, I was hoping you would have lunch with me today. I don't feel much like eating by myself."

Her brown eyes flash at the shocking request. "Ahm," Is out before she can process Ruby's plea.

"I ate late and I have to finish these reports so I can't tag along." Ferg offers without provocation and it's awkward but it's also Ferg so neither pays attention.

"Sure, Ruby." Her tone flat. "Just us girls, then?"

"I think so. Let me get my purse."

The two women sit at an open table and not the customary booth that Vic used to occupy with Walt. They don't do that anymore. They don't do a lot of things anymore.

"Vic, how are you, really?" Ruby asks over the large iced tea with extra lemon wedges.

"I'm fine, Ruby." She answers pushing the fries on her plate around like a merry-go-round.

"Those dark circles under your eyes tell me different." Her voice is soft, almost a whisper, as she gently encroaches the once ferocious beast sitting across from her.

"I just haven't been sleeping well lately."

Ruby reaches out and touches Vic's hand and isn't met with repulsion as their eyes meet.

"Vic, I've never tried to meddle but I was hoping that you would go talk to someone about all of this."

She sees the telltale signs that under different circumstances would force her into a silent retreat and before she can reply Ruby tells her, "I made an appointment for you at 3 o'clock."

"You what?" The confusion, the resentment, are on full display in the small booth of the diner. "You had no right to do something like that."

"Well, that's debatable."

"Look, Ruby, I'm trying to be respectful" and before she can finish her sentence Ruby interrupts.

"That's a first."

With a head twist and an eye-roll, "Excuse me."

Ruby smiles, "That's the most you've cared about anything for months and truth-be-told I miss you."

Vic sits and stares at the older, almost unrecognizable woman across from her, and she retreats back into her shell for protection and allows silence to invade the table.

"Ferg is here so you can go if anything comes up."

"Do I have a fucking choice?"

"You always have a choice, Vic."

She knew it to be true and she knew she made bad choices like sleeping with Eammon when she wasn't ready to sleep with anyone and shitting where she ate she knew better than that too but it didn't prevent her from doing it. She kept fucking up, making the same mistakes, and since she couldn't stop doing that she stopped doing anything including fighting so she took the post-it that magically appeared on the Formica table with the address and the name Dr. Robert Chandler, Absaroka County Mental Health.

Great, she thought, a county head shrinker, just what I fucking need.

* * *

 ** _A/N - There's no plan for this story – just my brain trying to make sense of it all – so no please be patient with me and I promise I will update it as I can. Thanks Walt/Vic shippers. Don't give up hope!_**

 ** _P.S. I just scribbled this out so if I made a grammatical error or a syntax error or an error of any kind either ignore it or send me a PM. Thanks!_**


	3. The Terror

**Note: There'spoilers for season 4 so read if you wish. Vic's therapy session with Bob after three months.**

* * *

"It's not who you are that holds you back, Vic." His thick fingers press into that damned triangle he makes when he's thinking.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" Her scatological response a clear indicator of her basic nature and frustrated state.

"It's who you think you're not." He continues to look at her, his pressed warm blue eyes refusing to leave hers. She thinks how clear they are through his frameless glasses.

"Look, after three months of this bullshit, I still can't figure out your fucking riddles. Can you just spit it out, Doc?"

The two have exchanged similar dialogue but he knows she is invested because she is here and so he waits like he always does not relenting in his pursuit for her recovery and reformation.

"I know who I am?" Vic's defensiveness is transparent but after his time with her he expects it.

"Who are you?" He says without skipping a beat because he's played this game before.

"The Terror." She retorts with a head roll coupled with an eye-roll. A double displeasure.

"Is that who you are or who they say you are?" The speed of his response throws her a little off balance.

"I've been called that my whole life."

"You didn't answer my question."

"It's who I am."

"Explain to me how that's you."

"You know."

"I don't know."

She rolls her eyes so far back into her skull he thinks she will tilt over from a distorted inner ear balance but she doesn't he guesses she has adapted to the physical expressions of displeasure and frustration.

"I'm a bitch."

"That's a strong word."

"It's true."

"How does that make you a terror?"

"I don't put up with any shit."

"In what way?"

"In any way?"

"That's why you allowed yourself to remain here, in Wyoming, after being abandoned by the man you claimed was your best friend. Would someone who didn't put up with any shit put up with that?"

She screams, "That's not fair."

"Why not?"

"Because I didn't allow anything. He's a fucking asshole."

"You allowed him to treat you that way didn't you?"

"You keep saying allowed. How am I responsible for Walt being a dickhead?"

"You're not responsible for him but by not clearly articulating the expectations of behavior and boundaries to him you did nothing to remove yourself from a psychologically damaging situation."

"So you're putting this all off on me?"

"Not all of it."

"Why any of it. This is bullshit."

"Is it?"

"Yes, it is. I can't force him to talk."

"You're right and you can't force him to listen."

"So what's your point then?" She slaps her hands down on her jean covered thighs.

"My point is by not having any personal boundaries regarding your feelings towards him you in essence lost your self-respect, your self-worth, and when we do that with anyone we can't be surprised by the results."

"He just switched." She snaps her fingers, "Just like that poof he was gone." She wipes her eye but she's not crying and her eyes lock on him.

"Or was it that he was always like that and you never acknowledged it?"

"He used to be my friend."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah I'm sure."

"What friendly things did you do?"

"What you mean like hang out? Shit like that?"

"Shit like that."

"I was married."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"My husband thought I was too close to Walt so it's not like Walt and I hung out outside of work."

"So you were friends, but just at work, did I get it right?"

She's silent as she processes his questions which she is processing like accusations.

"We were close."

"How so?"

"I could trust him with anything including my life."

"Did you trust him?"

"Yes."

"Can you give me an example?"

She thinks and she ponders.

"What did you ever tell him that needed his trust?"

"He saved my life. He saved my husband's life."

"Isn't that what he's supposed to do?"

"Well he was my partner maybe so."

"It was more than that."

"Tell me."

"It's hard to explain."

"Try."

"He's the first man since my dad to ever make me feel safe?"

"Physically safe or emotionally safe?"

"Well, he's been a complete shit bird emotionally so that answer is obvious."

"Why do you think you chose a man that was emotionally unavailable?"

She stops, sips from the chilled plastic bottle of water he conveniently has on the coffee table, and plays with the white cap in her fingertips.

"I have no fucking idea."

"I think you do, Vic."

They play a short stalemate and she answers, "I make bad fucking decisions that's why."

"Let's consider that you may be trying to be the person you're not and because you can't deal with who you are at your core you pick men that aren't available to discover who you are and then possibly like or love who you are."

"Well that's a fucking start."

* * *

 _ **A/N - I had to stop here because being in Vic's head space is a very difficult place to be but let this marinate and as I continue to work it out I will keep this going. I will try not to make it long gaps of time in between but I do ask your patience. Thanks! Stay strong shippers**_

 _ **p.s. Again, if there are grammar errors, etc please send me a PM. In an effort not to delay my editing may be less than pristine.**_


	4. Vic

Vic rolls through her afternoon like she always does after a visit with Doc Chandler. She stops at the local Green Bean for a hot cup of coffee. The flavor of the month is hazelnut.

She answers calls as she's paid to do, completes reports, and writes enough tickets not to draw the wrath of Walt or the local citizenry for being too diligent and she avoids him at all costs. She knows that this can't last forever and she doesn't want it to but she also knows that she has to make up her mind. Either she is leaving or she is staying. The decision is simple, she knows that, but reaching the decision is nearly unbearable as she considers every factor, every alternative, every slight, and this in essence has left her paralyzed.

"What have you been doing to take care of yourself, Vic?" He asks like there's a due date.

"I avoid, Walt."

Bob looks at her.

"I've been trying to go for walks in the morning."

"Trying."

"Trying." She rolls her eyes.

"Have you been sleeping well?"

"Not really but it's not insomnia. I'm sleeping just not a lot."

"Eating."

"Of course."

"Balanced nutritious meals?"

She doesn't even bother to answer him as she folds her arms and her legs.

"Ok, what is the first rule in the police academy?" He asks ready to cut through her bullshit.

"Officer Safety."

"Which is followed very closely by which second rule?"

"You can't protect your brothers and sisters in the field if you can't get there to help."

"Which means?"

"We have to take care of ourselves in order to take care of each other."

"Why aren't you taking care of yourself?"

"I stopped caring."

"About"

"Everything."

"About Walt?"

"What does he have to do with this?"

"Everything." He says without flinching.

Her neon yellow Adidas running shoe is bouncing up and down as her body makes the split second decision to fight instead of flee.

"Do you see the correlation, Vic?"

"I suppose so."

He waits as her mouth twists and turns with her thoughts.

"I stopped caring about him, or forcing myself to stop, and then I stopped caring about myself. Like he isn't worth it. So, I'm thinking I'm not worth it?" She processes her thoughts out loud.

"But I think I never thought I was worth it."

"Is that what you know to be true?"

"Well, I know he's a motherfucker and he treated me like shit and well I may have some culpability in that but still there's a mean streak in him."

"Is it meanness or self-protection?"

"From what?" She's animated in her response.

"Have you considered it from his point of view?"

"Fuck him."

He waits for the anger to subside enough to release the flow of reason.

"How many life and death situations have you witnessed as a cop?"

"Fuck, too many to count, Bob."

"You've seen people die in the hospital?"

"Yeah, sure."

"You been there when their families are there or a husband or wife, right?"

"Of course, what's your point?"

"Have you ever seen a spouse yell at the one dying?"

She pauses, "Yeah, I have but you know assholes are like opinions…."

"Why do you think they are so angry?"

"Like I said, assholes."

Bob leans forward with his elbows planted in his thighs, his hands fingers pressed together guiding Vic through the process and the question.

"Have you ever considered that anger is rooted in fear? Maybe the fear of losing the person they love the most is presented as anger or indifference?"

Vic leans forward mirroring Bob and hangs her head as she thinks and lifts her eyes to meet his.

"But that doesn't make any sense."

"Logically, no, but one of our primal emotions is fear and when we are faced with loss or the potential of loss what we really are is fearful. Vic, fear is associated with weakness and vulnerability, so instead of displaying our weakness and fear we lash out, we puff up, we become angry and indifferent to protect ourselves."

Her eyes fill as the cylinders click and fall into place

"It's why I yell all of the time and why I've been angry my entire life. I'm scared shitless of just being me."

"Let's talk about that."

"I'm afraid no one will ever love me the way I want to be loved. I've come to realize that but I also think that I need to love myself first. All those stupid sayings on those bullshit motivational posters all comes back to loving yourself and I don't do that."

"Why, don't you think you deserve love?"

"Not the way I am."

"But, as you said, you aren't being yourself."

"No, I'm not."

"Let's start there. Let's start today."

"What the fuck, Bob. Just flip a switch?"

"Yeah, it's that simple. You decide and only you can decide if you want to be authentic and that you deserve that authenticity."

"It can't be any worse than this." She says and she knows it's true and, really, she is ready.

"What have you got to lose?"

"Nothing, I've already lost it all."

"So this is your second chance."

"There's no second chances, Bob."

"That's what you told Walt, isn't it?"

"Sure fucking did."

"You were right. There's no second chances with who you used to be."

"So if I'm true to myself for the first time in my life it's my first chance at really being me and who I want to be."

"Yes."

"That's some shit I'm ready to do."

She wipes her eye with the back of her hand and then she looks back at the Doc and picks the nail of her left thumb.

"You think that's why Walt just shut down on me and was just fucking paralyzed with indifference? I mean he was such and asshole and completely unrecognizable to me."

"I don't know, Vic but I do know that you do not have to stand for bad behavior."

"I get what you're saying. I know he felt guilty about Branch and I know he feels guilty and responsible for a lot of shit."

"You think he feels guilty about you?"

"We never did anything so I don't know how."

"You said he changed, in what way."

"We were close and I know I can't give you examples of us having burgers and beers but fuck I know that we were close I'm not crazy I didn't imagine how he looked at me, how he would tease me, how we would just I don't know be together."

He lets her flow.

"I know that I didn't handle anything well, at all. I know that and I accept that but the hardest part is how dismissive he was and how he grabbed the first skirt he could find." She stops and looks up to the ceiling and brings her eyes back down as the behavior suddenly comes to the forefront of her mind.

"Fuck, I did the same thing."

She hangs her head.

"This is so fucked up. I'm so stupid."

"You're not stupid you're just learning about yourself, Vic."

"I'm not letting him off the hook though, He doesn't deserve it."

"You need to forgive yourself first."

"Forgive myself, for what."

"For not loving yourself and not being true to yourself. Once you move past that then we can begin dealing with other things."

"I'm ready. I'm ready to be happy, Doc. I'm ready to fucking do it."


	5. Walt

**SPOILERS AHEAD**

* * *

He knew he had been an asshole but he didn't know why and he wasn't really interested in finding out. His attention and focus was placed elsewhere and it was a welcomed relief. It was easy with her but deep inside, in the part he pushed aside, he knew why it was that way and he knew it would never last but it was a temporary salve to close the last of his invisible wounds.

When she said yes he wasn't nervous and while the clues were there all along he ignored them because after all of this time he was comfortable with the concept of denial.

Now that he finds himself on the other side he doesn't have any more defenses and even if he did feel like putting up a viable fight he somehow knew that Bob would kick his ass.

"When did it occur to you that she was involved?" Bob asked, sitting straight-up in his chair, hands in his lap, fingers intertwined together.

"The pills in the piano where the first clue."

"The piano is significant for you."

Walt hadn't put the strings together but now that they are connecting his head collapses into his fingers as they spread across his forehead.

"Shit." He says out loud.

"Walt, you said before, that when you played for her you felt comfortable with yourself more so than you had in years."

"That's true."

"So there was some release there for you and that's good."

"I'm just, I'm embarrassed."

"For being human?"

"I just wanted to feel like a man again and I did. For a short while anyway."

There's a silence between the two as they don't voice what they know to be true. Donna was involved in the illegal distribution of the Zoloft and was awaiting trial having been stripped of her license to practice. She confessed to spare Walt any further publicity and acknowledged that he was completely unaware and chalked her part up to helping those that are helpless. She played him. That's what she said. It's what he knew to be true.

"And Zach."

"I feel betrayed by both of them."

His voice reverberates the pain that is finally seeping out. The emotion is woven into the fabric of his soul given the past five years. Betrayal of loss.

"She should have told me he was her patient."

"What else should she have told you?"

"I don't know, Bob, fuck."

He leans forward and holds Walt's stare as Walt looks away completely perplexed as to how he missed the clues yet again.

"I tried to go by the book but I ignored everything. I ignored Vic falling apart, I ignored the clues Donna laid like a trail of breadcrumbs, never should have hired Zack in the first place, never should have fired him, and never should have fired Eammon either."

"You couldn't have predicted what would have happened."

"I knew he was off. I knew there was something not right with both of them."

"Why did you fire Eammon?"

Walt looks back up at him and his lips flatten.

"Walt, let's talk about Vic."

He rubbed his long fingers over his mouth and squared his shoulders up.

"I was jealous and that's the truth even though I knew I wasn't going to pursue her. I knew she was in trouble but I abandoned her."

"Why do you think you reacted that way?"

"I couldn't face losing someone else I cared about. Someone else I loved. None of us dealt with Branch and there was a part of that too."

"So you think you pushed her away on purpose?"

"I don't know what else I would call it."

"How about self-preservation?"

"What?"

"If you allowed her in your heart that means you would be vulnerable."

"Yeah, but it didn't stop me from wanting Donna."

"Why do you think that is?"

His eyes fill, "She reminded me of Martha and I felt at ease with her. I wanted to be with her, Bob, but I knew the whole time that it was fleeting."

"Where does that leave us?" Bob asks

"In no man's land."

"You've been there before."

"Yup"

"And"

"And what."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm here and I'm lost and I don't believe I deserve any more chances."

"With who?"

"Vic."

"Why would you want a chance?"

"I ruined our friendship, our relationship, I shit all over it."

"You two were close, that's what you told me, but you aren't close anymore."

"Nope."

"Tell me why"

"Dunno"

Bob let's Walt's lie permeate the air and sink.

"I can't really explain what happened."

"Do your best."

Walt leans forward and runs his hands through his hair and sits back drawing in an exasperated breath.

"I failed her just like I failed everyone I care about."

"That's a sweeping statement."

"I knew she was struggling. I saw her house for God sakes. I saw the mail on her porch. If I hadn't been there to evict her I would have thought there was a dead body inside. It was clear she wasn't taking care of herself."

"You tried to talk to her?"

"I did." He pauses, "But I could have tried harder. I'm her boss. I have the authority to order her to treatment just like I could have with Branch but I didn't do it."

"Why not?"

"I honestly don't know."

The two men exchange glances.

"Tell me Walt, while you were off during the FBI's initial investigation of Connally did Vic come and visit you?"

"No."

"Was that surprising?"

"Yeah, it hurt a little."

"Just a little?"

"A lot."

"Why?"

"Because I thought we were close like I said."

"How was it when you went back to work?"

"Well, I didn't react to well to that. I was jealous over Eammon. She seemed close to him and it was obvious to me. I didn't like it and I was pissed."

"Were you afraid of losing her?"

"I was afraid that I already had."

"That must have been painful for you."

"I needed to shut that door, permanently."

"When you noticed she wasn't doing so well did you consider that if you ordered her for treatment and she was placed off-duty you would, in essence, be losing her, again."

"Not on a conscious level."

"Tell me how you felt not what you thought."

Walt draws in another deep breath.

"I felt like I couldn't help her but I felt like I didn't want to get caught in her mess because I was so focused on me."

"Does that bother you?"

"I feel guilty."

"Why? Don't you have the right to take care of yourself and put yourself first?"

"I don't think I'm that selfish, Bob."

"How long you been Sheriff?"

"A long time."

"Your department and this community depend on you, right?"

"Yup."

"That's an incredible responsibility, Walt. I want you to consider that if you don't take care of yourself you can't be there for anyone else and that includes being there for them emotionally."

"I didn't seem to have a problem with Donna."

"Were you there for her or was she there for you?"

"What could she give you that you couldn't get from someone else?"

"Well for one thing she was the only person I knew that wasn't in some form of emotional crisis. That's a start." He chuckles at the obvious.

"Exactly, my point."

Walt exhales through his lips like he does when he's overwhelmed.

"I shouldn't have shut down on her, though. I've lost three deputies in less than 6 months and two I know will never be back but I feel the worse over her. I miss her."

"In what way?"

"I miss her trusting me."

"Have you ever thought to ask her why she is still here?"

"I have."

"What conclusions have you considered?"

"She's hasn't found what she's looking for."

"What do you want her to find?"

"Peace."

"You can help her with that I suspect."

"How?" His blue eyes drift up.

"You are sorry for what you did and how you treated her maybe it's time you apologized to her."

"I don't think she would accept it."

"Should she?"

"I'm not sure I deserve it but I hope like hell she does."

"Why?"

"I don't want to cause her any more pain. Ever."

"That's a good basis for an apology."

"Yup."

* * *

 _ **A/N: How I interpreted this - Zach kicked in the door. He was Donna's mysterious patient that set her van on fire (Clue #1 Walt - why would a highly successful psychiatrist without small children drive a van. Just saying I think that's called a red flag) Walt killed Zach in the ensuing battle at the cabin**_.


	6. Author's Note

**Breaking the Rules #6**

 **Author's Note**

One week ago today it felt like I had open heart surgery that was not of my choosing. Season 4 of Longmire splayed open my chest cavity, took out my otherwise healthy beating organ, played around with it and tossed it back in after stitching together enough vessels to keep it functioning, barely. As I look back on this week, my first thought is to ponder; how as a rather rational grounded person could I be in such an emotional state over a television show? Seriously, me?

Great comfort was sought and found from the fanfic world in particular from Vickrok and RebelxxWaltz (Yes, Walt is in your name you vixen) There have been a host of others that have been courageous in expressing their thoughts and concerns and while we may not always agree (Rebelwant2B) I value and respect your perspectives and I admire your willingness to be in the muck right next to me and calling me out and questioning and righting my course.

 _ **It speaks volumes about who we are as a fandom and who we are as people.**_

Looking back on the past week there are a few conclusions I can make in which I am comfortable saying in a public forum. Longmire is the best scripted television show of a generation. The proof is in the fight that kept the show on the air and in our emotional reactions of season four. We needn't look any further to find gifted writers, actors, and production values. As with any complex art there will be layers so vast and expansive that they will never be comprehensible. They exist to be admired. They exist so we may stand back in awe and appreciate that we were witness to greatness.

This is how I feel about Longmire.

As I finish the longest author's note I will ever pen, I invite you to continue the journey with me knowing that there is a road ahead; the one we create and build together. So fire up your laptop, turn on your desktop, or uncap your pen and start writing, damnit.


	7. Forgiveness

They walked around each other for the next week and it was only during lunch with Cady that he learned that Vic had moved out or was planning on moving the coming Saturday.

"Where's she moving to?" He asked without measuring his concern.

"She didn't tell you, Dad?" Cady's large blue eyes don't hide her surprise or her curiosity at his reaction.

He gives a faint smile and shakes his head, "Nope."

"Oh." Her eyes fall back to her tuna sandwich.

They finish their lunch never broaching the topic again and when Saturday morning dawns Walt finds himself in the Bronco heading towards Cady's house. He expels his breath when he turns the corner and finds the pick-up truck loaded with boxes in the back and Vic stepping onto the sidewalk with two boxes stacked in her bare arms teetering as she stops to balance them on white flesh exposed by her running shorts.

Walt parks and sprints over to grab the boxes and his hands land on hers but that is, in the end, a mistake. She let's go and the boxes land at their feet.

"What are you doing here?" She's not surprised. She's not angry. She's not anything.

He gives a faint smile and softens his voice, "Cady mentioned you were moving and I thought you could use a little help."

"It's too late."

"You're still moving." He says confused by her response.

"For you to help me." The boxes still rest at their feet.

He looks at her pondering his mistakes and regretting them.

"I'm sorry, Vic."

Her face flattens and her eyes shrink, "Would you mind stepping back you're in my way."

"Vic, I'm trying to apologize." He steps forward and holds his hands on his hips.

"You're too late for that, too. I don't need your tired ass apology. I'm past that." She leans down and hefts a box, balancing it with the top of her thigh, and he reaches out again and takes the box but she shoves it into his stomach.

"What are you really doing here, Walt?"

"I want to help."

"I don't want your help."

He can see the pain that he caused and while he knows he's wrong he understands why she won't or can't forgive him and he fights reverting to his common thread. He tries not shutting down and lashing out.

"As your employer you're required to have a current address on file." He tries another tack and his voice softens and he hopes she knows that he is teasing her like he used to.

"You're right, Walt but obviously you haven't gone to work, yet. I'm no longer your employee."

It stops him in his tracks. He can feel any hope that remains eviscerate because it's the one thing he never considered. He's not as smart as he thinks and the realization of that scares him.

"What?" The sound of his voice is part shock and part embarrassment.

"My resignation letter is on your desk."

She lifts the second box into the bed of the truck and walks around to the driver's door.

"It's effective at 1700 but I'll have the truck back before then and put the keys on your desk."

He catches the door before she slams it shut, "Vic, wait a minute."

His long lean body presses in like he's contacting an offending driver, "Vic, please don't drive away from me."

"Sucks to be on the other side doesn't it." She starts the motor and turns toward him, her eyes fully open, "Move or you'll get run over."

She grips the shift lever and puts it in drive and Walt let's go and stands in the street watching the Absaroka County lettering get smaller and smaller as she heads away from him.

"This notice serves as my resignation effective immediately." Her unpredictably feminine signature is at the bottom of the letterhead.

As he waits in his office he realizes she's too smart to be ambushed and he slowly begins to accept that there's no recovery, there's no rehabilitation, and it is done whatever it was.

True to her nature she's loyal he concludes as he eventually reads the rest of the resignation letter. Vic arranged for her replacement so the department will not be shorthanded. All of her equipment is in her locker along with all of the relevant keys and locker combinations.

That's the way it is and no one says anything as they always do and calls keep getting answered, reports filed, and criminals arrested and every Wednesday at 10:30 Walt meets with Bob and every night of every day of every week the pain of regret gets stronger and deeper and sharper.

"It's called a conscience, Walt." Bob reminds him.

"I've been thinking a lot about forgiveness and how much I seek it and want it and need it but that I have never given it, not really. I think it makes it so I will never receive it." His eyes are clear and lucid.

"That is logical and reasonable. How would you change your paradigm?" Bob asks, his coffee cup meeting his lips, as he flexes them allowing the hot fluid through.

"I'm not really sure." Walt scratches his head, then his beard, and looks back at Bob.

"Would you agree it takes action?"

"Action?" He looks back, "I don't know where to find her."

"Interesting that your first thought is to find her."

"It's her forgiveness I seek why wouldn't I want to find her?" Walt blows the frustration out with his lungs

"Because you need to forgive yourself first."

"Did you know she was leaving?" His voice is deep and Bob knows it's on purpose but probably out of habit.

"I can't discuss that with you, Walt. You know the rules."

The two men stare at each other and Walt begins to shake his head as he ponders.

"You know where she is don't you?"

Bob just looks back at him not offering any encouragement or persuasion.

"Is she alright?" He won't give up.

Bob sets his coffee cup on his knee and keeps his eyes on Walt.

"How many questions do you think you need to ask before you accept for yourself that I will not be cooperative in your questioning?"

He lifts the cup and takes another sip his thick large hands delicately balance the round handle.

Walt's jaw clenches.

"You need to examine yourself, come to terms with yourself, and understand the action that led to you seeking forgiveness in the first place. This deflection, is all bullshit, this is all about you, Walt. All of it."

Walt stands up, his fists clenched in frustration and Bob rises to meet him, his coffee cup still in his hand. The posturing is subliminal as the two men face each other.

Walt nods his head in agreement, "Ok." Is all he's ready to offer and all he gives.

As his long fingers wrap around the nickel door handle he says under his breath, "See you Wednesday."

Bob sits down and makes a note in his pad as Wanda Little Bird's voice breaks the silence via the intercom.

"Doc, your eleven o'clock is on hold on line three."

"Thank you."

His heavy finger presses the button designed for delicate hands, "Good morning, Vic."

The distinctly womanly voice answers as she does every week at this time, "What's up, Doc."

It never gets old he thinks.


	8. Population 28

"How are you today, Vic?"

"I'm feeling pretty good, Bob."

"How is your plan coming along?"

He hears the familiar escape of air into the phone. It's a habit she has in common with Walt.

"It's a pain in the ass but I'm doing it."

He waits and she adds, "My trainer is kicking my ass we switched programs yesterday."

"How are you feeling?"

"Fucking sore, Doc. What the fuck."

Bob smiles on the other end of the phone allowing the liberty since she cannot see him.

"How are you feeling otherwise?"

She sighs, "I have to meet with human resources in two weeks. I'm not looking forward to that shit at all."

"Are you having second thoughts? That is natural."

"No. Fuck that. As much as I don't want to be there I don't want to ruin my retirement either."

Bob listens as she processes her rationale. She planned her exit from the department, she was grounded, and it was not an emotional reaction but her greatest effort to care for herself. To save herself. With Bob's help she stayed a county employee and took a medical leave of absence which meant her visits and conversations with him were still covered under her health care. Vic Moretti was still an employee with the county of Absaroka but no longer on the Sheriff's payroll. Walt was in the dark.

"Have you prepared yourself, Vic?"

"I think so." She pauses. "I mean how can I be prepared? I just want to move on and put this behind me. It's been three months."

"You still have time, Vic. You do not have to rush. This is all covered under your employment as injuries suffered while you were a deputy, remember."

"I know, Bob and I appreciate everything you have done for me, truly. I feel good."

Bob listens to the lightness in Vic's voice.

"Are you still dreaming?"

"Not as much but I'll be damned if I go to a Rockies game."

Her humor was back but during their work together her deflections were minimal, her humor was healthy and appropriate.

"I let myself think about it now. I don't try to avoid it anymore but I need to make the last step. I want to get over it."

"Ok, Vic, I will see you in a couple of weeks."

"I'll be there will bells on. Ok, maybe not bells, but I'll be there."

"Vic, it will be natural to have second thoughts and call me anytime if you need to talk."

"Thanks, Bob. I mean it."

Another week passes in Durant without fanfare and Walt is on-time for his Wednesday appointment.

"Walt, I would like for you to consider something but it will be upsetting."

"What?" His face is stern but warm.

"Chance Gilbert." The name is a slap in the face shocking his senses.

"What about him?" He says without his lips moving.

"I'm sure you would agree that his actions had an adverse effect on Vic."

"Of course. It's a constant reminder of one of my many failures. She needed help."

"She needs your help, now."

Walt sits up.

"What do you mean?"

"Vic has asked me to act as an intermediary on her behalf."

Walt leans forward listening.

"She wants to visit the compound and she wants you to be there when she does and I will be there, of course."

"She asked you this?"

"Yes."

"Why? Why, me?"

"It's ground zero for her, Walt."

Walt looks over to the clock and the color in his face drains because of his selfishness.

"I'll be there."

"Walt, there are very specific ground rules and you must agree to them before we can proceed. I've given this a lot of thought and I believe you are ready for this."

"I'll do anything for her."

"This isn't about you. You need to be clear on that point."

"I am."

"I would like for us to meet this Friday and next Monday because I want you to be prepared. I want to make sure that you will not suffer unduly during this process."

"Ok, Doc. Whatever you say."

With that, the weeks passed, and they both prepared separately with Bob.

Bob rode shotgun in the Bronco and they were early but not earlier than Vic. She stood outside of a black hardtop Jeep Wrangler near the cast iron padded mailbox.

Her hair was longer, she was tan, and thin. She smiled at Bob and wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, "Thank you, Bob."

"You're welcome, kiddo." He leaned back from her embrace and smiled. "I'm glad you are here."

"So am I." Her eyes were already full but she didn't shy away.

Walt stood just behind Bob with his hat in his hand, the fresh haircut and clean shave would have been alarming except they were overshadowed by his lanky frame that was absent several pounds and the soft white t-shirt under the navy blue shirt.

"Vic." He said in his softest voice.

"Walt." She wiped her eyes.

She looked at Bob almost as if she was asking permission and with his head nod she added, "Thank you for coming."

"Anything for you, Vic." The words contained everything he ever held in his heart for her and were out before he could control them.

Bob stays between them, "Walk me through the sequence of events."

Vic begins and all three walk through the progression revisiting the house, the basement, the grassy woods where Walt and Gorski held quiet until they effected Walt's plan and for the first time Walt hears about the body bag dump and he feels nauseous and ashamed for his behavior. A shame he never knew existed.

Walt points out where Chance's body fell and Bob looks at the two of them standing side-by-side.

"I am sorry for both of you." He says.

Neither of them says anything.

"Vic, how are you feeling?" Bob asks, the three of them forming a triangle on Chance's imaginary body.

"I'm mad for having to pay for something that had nothing to do with me."

"Can you explain that to me?"

"I was beat in the head and my husband was beat unconscious because Walt couldn't communicate with me as my partner and it nearly got us killed. I'm really angry because if I'd known I never would have been here."

Walt hangs his head.

"This is where my marriage ended. This is where my career ended. This is where everything ended for me."

"What do you mean?" Bob asks.

"I lost it when I thought Walt was dead and it was obvious what I was feeling but I never thought those feelings would not be reciprocated and I think I was gullible and believed what I wanted to as opposed to what was reality and because of that and my poor reaction to it and my insecurities I had to leave here, my career, to save myself and I have to get past that and let go of my anger so I can have the life I want for once."

She wipes her eyes with the back of her hands.

"I've fucking earned the right to be happy but you know like any good cop preparing for a defense I need to revisit the scene of the crime. I need to stand my ground."

Bob looks at Walt whose jaws are clenched his weight on one leg.

"Walt." He says.

He faces Vic and remembers Bob's guiding words that this is not about him.

"Vic, I need to tell you something and I don't want to make it worse but it is honest and it's true."

She puts her hands in her back pockets, her body language letting them know she's ready to hear it.

"I may have never shown it but your feelings." He pauses, "They were reciprocated. They are reciprocated." Walt looks down at the metaphorical grave, "I was confused and consumed but I was wrong and I am sorry for that. Sorry that I caused you any pain or had any influence in your marriage. I'm sorry that you suffered because of me, because of my selfishness. I'm ashamed of that."

She wipes her eyes, again and takes the tissue that Bob hands her.

"I needed you."

"I know"

"You abandoned me, Walt. Why?"

"I couldn't deal with it, with any of it."

"But you could with her?"

"I was trying to save myself."

"Eammon was a distraction."

The water flows from his eyes and he doesn't bother to hide it and he doesn't care if she thinks he's weak because he knows he's not worth having. It's too late to worry about any of those things now. It's too late for a lot of things.

"I forgive you, Walt." Her voice is clear and strong and she means it.

The gulp he emits takes them all by surprise as his arms stretch out and she walks into them and they hang on each other and they cry all the tears they have held inside as Bob turns his back and looks down into the valley and says a prayer of gratefulness.

* * *

 _ **A/N: The title of this chapter is not a typo. The episode title was Population 25 but there were three more victims that day. Hence, Population 28**_


	9. Spirit Guide

_**I pause to thank all of you for reading, your reviews, and your PM's. Your kindness, honesty, and commitment are immeasurable. Thank you. Special thanks to RebelxxWaltz and Vickrok.**_

* * *

"Why couldn't you be my friend?"

She's close, closer than she's been in nearly a year, and he looks at her not permitting any barriers to intercede, "I just didn't have room to be your friend."

Walt pauses and takes her hands in his, "And I'm sorry for that Vic. I truly am."

He looks into her brown watery eyes that match the temperance of his, "I'm here now."

"Why?"

"You need me to be and I can't push you out of my mind anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"It means I'm here."

"No, Walt what the fuck does that mean?"

"I don't know Vic other than I can't pretend anymore."

She takes her hands back and folds her arms over her chest as she inhales and slowly follows, "How can we ever forgive each other, Walt? I think the damage is done."

Bob makes himself invisible, he's there but he's not interrupting as the conversation continues between them.

"The damage is done. You're right but it's not permanent, Vic."

"Don't do that, Walt."

"Do what?"

"Don't think for me. You don't know what I think or how I feel."

"Tell me." He says, his voice takes her back to missed opportunity. To the first time he asked her to tell him and she was wrong to deflect and make light of his inadequacies and she's paid for it ever since.

"We'll never figure it out and I don't know if I want to figure it out with you. You hurt me like I never imagined possible."

He hangs his head down but quickly looks back up at her absorbing the truth.

"It's not that you didn't want to be with me, Walt it's that you never told me one way or the other. Your indifference was more painful than the truth and you're such a strong man in every way except having the strength to be honest with me and I've come to realize that I can't compromise on that kind of truth. I deserve better than you."

He stands powerless against her offense and his instincts want to agree and cajole but the bruised part of himself rises first.

"And I deserve better than you, Vic."

Her eyes open fully, "I didn't abandon you."

"You gave up on me."

"You were fucking Donna."

"Vic, I couldn't think of you and me, not then, not with Branch and all of my failure associated with him."

"So you decide to fuck somebody else, that's your excuse."

"I was trying to save myself. You should understand that."

Walt reaches out, his hand on her forearm, "I made the decision I thought was best by pushing you away."

"Since when do you get to decide for me? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I was trying to do best for both of us."

"But you never considered me in all of this, Walt. You never thought to talk to me and when I tried you shut me down."

"I know"

"You were an asshole."

"I know I was but I didn't want to deal with how I felt about you and Eammon, either. It's not an excuse, Vic it's my truth and I dealt with it badly."

"I actually understand that, Walt. I do and I'm sorry for that."

"You once said that you didn't believe in second chances."

"They're bullshit."

"I just need one chance, Vic, one chance to be what you need me to be, to be what I need to be for myself."

She wipes her brow with the tip of her thumb almost like she's brushing aside her thoughts.

"I don't know what I want and right now I don't think I want you."

The tears instantly well in his eyes but they don't fall as his voice finds its way out.

"Ok, Vic." He says and slowly fits his hat squarely on his worn head.

He turns facing the sun and she stops him, "Hey Walt, thank you for being here." Her words are honest and he accepts them.

"Welcome." He says because all the words and regret are stuck in his throat and he can't get much more out to acknowledge her.

He steps toward the road and stops and turns and faces her once more, "I'll never fail you, again."

"I don't trust you. Not right now."

"It's such a precious thing and to think I ruined it, we ruined it, with such disregard is nearly unintelligible."

He steps forward again, past Bob, and moves into her chest looking down at her, his eyes search hers and she doesn't back down, she's not aflutter, as he says, "There are forces we can't control, there are pieces of me, of you, that I will never understand but I believe our spirits are connected for reasons incomprehensible to me but you must believe that once that realization consumes you I will be here and I will be waiting. I'll always wait." He leans down and kisses her cheek and turns back toward the road.

The sounds of the open woods slowly permeate her consciousness as she accepts her truth, identifying her resiliency, and comfortable for once in her life that she is okay within herself.

The spirit guide stops to rest, the transformation nearly complete, stopping only momentarily in preparation for the next step.

* * *

 _ **I leave it here for all of you to interpret as you will. This process has been very cathartic for me and I hope for you as well. The power of season four is evidenced by our own unique and collective visceral responses and while I may not agree with all of the choices presented during the season I cannot argue its affect. In the end, that is what art does in it's truest form, and in that, I appreciate the beauty of the season.**_


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